


Everything We Could Have Been

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, a serious conversation about abortion, brief conversation about speculation of rape / alien impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Clint and Coulson have a one night stand. After that things are a bit weird between them til Clint finds out that he is pregnant. Then things get weirder. Coulson finds out and asks Clint to marry him cause he is a little bit old fashioned... Then feelings happens and they get married for real.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> According to my notes, this was written before the first Avengers movie came out in 2012 though it takes place post movie. It's _old._ I'm trying to get all my fic in one location. Initial prompt was on Lj.

"Your balance is off," Natasha said, hands on her hips as she walked in circles around Clint.

"I know that," he said, standing up straight again. "Why do you think I asked you down here?" Over the past seven years she'd learned enough of his routines to know. "I've been trying to get this for a week. Can you tell if I'm doing something wrong?"

"Copy me," she said, standing on one leg, her arms out to her sides. Clint did it just fine, holding the pose as long as she did. She switched her position and Clint wobbled, but mostly held it. "I think your center of gravity has moved. Have you gained any weight?"

"About five pounds, not that much."

She laughed. "Not much for most people but your weight's stayed the same since we met. What happened?"

He shrugged and refused to touch his stomach. Everything felt off with him lately and he was a little worried. "You don't think Loki's army had any communicable diseases, do you?"

"The easiest thing to do is ask Coulson and Tony if they're suffering anything." She didn't even suggest he go to medical, nor would she until they had a firm idea what might be wrong.

"Tony might not even qualify considering his suit is sealed but I'll ask him."

"You don't want to ask Coulson?" Natasha said, finally focusing on Clint's expression. He remained as neutral as possible.

"He's been so damn busy -- even I can't cheer him up lately. You're obviously not feeling any different these past weeks?"

"Nothing feels off," Natasha said. "I've been keeping my food down and my appetite is as healthy as it was two months ago. I'm sleeping comfortably - relatively speaking - and I've not gained any weight. Nothing that matches your symptoms."

"I'm just tense lately," he mumbled, before adding, "I didn't mention throwing up."

"You think I'm blind?" she asked, raising one eyebrow and Clint shrugged. "I'll talk to Fury as well."

"Oh, thank you for that. I never want to be part of your foreplay -- or give him a reason to get rid of me."

"No one is getting rid of you, Barton." She finished stretching and stood up, ready to run with him. "And if you got laid once in a while you might be a little less tense."

"Is that an invitation?" He said, distracting her. Those had been easy words for her to say but Nat hadn't been compromised by Loki. The fear and stink of that had led to… well, it had led to an amazing night after the battle ended but the subsequent fallout between him and Coulson now had Clint wondering if it was worth it. He didn't correct Natasha's assumption about his sex life, just rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to share any detail of that with anyone.

And maybe, just maybe, it would get through to Coulson just how serious Clint had been.

"You can always ask Fury if you want," she teased, grinning at him.

"Pfft, I'm not an idiot. I'm more afraid of you than the Director."

Running was easy - he didn't feel queasy after the first half mile and Nat let him set the pace in deference to him feeling sick. It wasn't until they were back and Clint was on the ground, feet under the weight bench as he did sit-ups that he had to flip over and rush to the nearest garbage can, throwing up the entire bottle of water he'd drank.

The symptoms weren't getting better and by this point, Clint suspected they wouldn't be going away anytime soon. Crap. He needed to talk to Phil – which wasn't easily done lately. Crawling through the ducts was uncomfortable now, the pressure on his stomach either made him queasy, or made him think about things he didn't want to consider. Nor could be as quiet. Only six weeks and his whole body had changed already. As a compromise, he worked his way into the ducts before most people came into the SHIELD office for the morning. He waited above Phil's office, dozing on his side until the door opened and Phil came in, carrying his tie and jacket over his arm.

He looked relaxed and calm – something Clint hadn't seen for months. Humming softly, Phil turned on his computer and logged into SHIELD with a new password that Clint didn't bother to note. By the time the first hour had passed, three people had come to see Phil and Clint wanted to crawl away but didn't dare. Coulson had laughed with one of them, and smiled at another -- that rare, unguarded smile that showed a tiny amount of his teeth. The one only Clint and Natasha usually saw.

His email's calendar beeped and Clint, surprised, checked his watch. He hadn't expected Phil to still have the reminders on his computer telling him what time Clint usually logged into the archery range. Another ten seconds passed and Phil called up the registry to verify it. Thank god Clint had the foresight to ask Williams to run his ID through the range keypad for him.

Only then did Phil stand up, put on his tie and jacket, and leave his office. _After_ he assumed that Barton was accounted for six floors down. His rolling stomach couldn't be blamed on food this time. Clint dropped down out of the ceiling and cracked the door open to spy a clear hallway. He had his answer without speaking a word. So be it.

 

Even his favorite food didn't sound good today. Mostly he'd pushed his food around the tray, eating only a few bites of vegetables.

"Barton, you have a minute?" He knew that voice without looking up to see Phil standing over him.

"Sure," he said, taking the tray to the garbage.

"You're not eating that?" Phil asked.

"Second lunch," Clint lied with ease, ignoring the fact that Phil wasn't paying close enough attention to call him on it. "The first one filled me up."

"They did make lasagna today," Phil said, smiling at Clint's shoulder.

"What's up, sir?" Clint asked, falling in to walk beside him. They turned left, indicating Phil wanted to talk somewhere other than his office. They ended up in the room marked Staff Kitchen; Phil unlocked the door and let Clint in, then locked it behind them. Clint pulled himself up to sit on the bare counter and Phil… paced the room, his fingers twitching against his side. He'd called the meeting so Clint remained silent, waiting.

"I'm just going to be blunt. People are starting to notice we're acting different," Phil said, stopping his pacing. He leaned against the counter two feet away from Clint. "It's easy to forget we work with people just as smart as or smarter than we are. We need to work past this awkwardness."

"Okay," Clint said. The conversation wasn't a surprise even if Phil's deadpan manner was a little shocking. He'd initiated what had happened six weeks ago, after all. "We're not too bad if it's taken them six weeks to notice."

Phil smiled a little bit and nodded his head once. "But they are noticing. I… I want to fix this."

For a brief – very brief – moment, Clint _hoped_ and glanced up to meet Phil's gaze, which hadn't changed. "Since we're being blunt," Clint said. "Fix this how? Do you want to forget what happened and just go back to what we were before, or something else?"

"The first option," Phil said, his expression crinkling up a little as if he hadn't even considered remembering. As if what they'd done meant nothing to him.

"Okay," Clint said, jumping off the counter, needing the movement to distract Phil from catching anything in his expression. "We can continue to skip our private lunches while here. I've got a system worked out that's been working for me the past few weeks. We'll both have to show up at the mansion though and have dinner with the team a few nights per week. We never really drove into work together prior to the battle so separate cars still won't do anything. I'll start dropping by your hallway more often so it looks like I'm back in your office bothering you again." He crossed the room before turning around to look at Phil, as if the distance could hide any of his tells. "Missing anything?"

"I'll stop by the range on occasion," Phil said. "If we both leave there at the same time, people will assume we're eating lunch together."

"Okay," Clint said, shoving his hands into his jeans' pockets.

Phil frowned, watching him. Clint didn't wiggle. "You agree with this, don't you?"

"Of course," Clint said. "I miss talking to you. I feel like Nat is constantly watching me so this will help relieve all of that. I liked the routine we had but things change. We'll work it out as we go."

Phil nodded in agreement and relaxed slightly. He'd not been that tense this morning. All his tells were showing and Clint buried any regret he might have. It wasn't like his life ever worked out the way he wanted anyway.

Even after they left the room, he kept his hands firmly in his pockets to not touch his stomach.

 

Technically it was Steve's turn to cook but Clint wanted hamburgers and he knew how much the grill and Steve weren't compatible. So Bruce and Coulson, once he realized that Clint was conveniently staying outside (away from the smell of raw meat), made the patties. Natasha carried the plate outside, balanced on one hand with beer in the other.

"Coulson said to give you this since you never grill without one," she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen.

"Thanks," he said as she settled onto one of the patio chairs. Clint kept up a litany about the weather, about how Tony's staff never understood how a slightly-dirty grill made better hamburgers, and whatever came to mind to keep her from asking questions. Natasha… played along. Clint dumped the full bottle of beer behind the grill when she went back inside.

Their typical seats during dinner would be awkward and Clint had half expected Coulson choose another spot. But he fell into the seat beside Clint as usual and when the Dijon mustard ended up by Steve, Clint asked for it and set it in front of Phil. Tony and Bruce were talking around Steve, who was conversing with Thor while Natasha and Coulson carried on a conversation about baseball, of all things. Clint paid attention to Steve, one of the few people to his right which would keep him from having to look at Phil, and acted interested.

There was enough conversation going around for no one to notice that Clint and Phil weren't actually speaking to each other.

Jane and Darcy whipped the kitchen back into quick order following dinner while Tony picked the movie to watch. Clint sat in the chair furthest in the corner. He didn't want to hide upstairs and this one reclined. That always seemed to help him keep his dinner in his stomach lately. It was set just far enough back that even if Coulson sat on the sofa near Clint, which he did, that he couldn't obviously look at Clint without looking away from the movie. It worked for both of them lately.

 

It wasn't like Clint avoided him. That morning after, he'd stayed in his bed, Phil's arms wrapped tight around him, until they were both awake and having a normal conversation. It had been fine until Clint rolled over, laughing about a joke that Phil had jerked back. He'd mumbled something about morning breath and not subjecting Clint to that and Clint nodded in agreement, raising his hand to thread his fingers through Phil's chest hairs. He felt Coulson tense beneath him and shift slightly away and Clint got up to use the bathroom before Phil could see his expression. Phil was dressed and not quite meeting his gaze when Clint returned.

They hadn't been alone together since that morning seven weeks ago. It would have been weird if they totally avoided each other so Clint came around like normal to drop his paperwork off. Every time Phil had another agent in his office. Phil stopped coming down to the range that first day -- breaking his four-year habit of getting Clint for lunch.

Clint learned to set his phone to remind himself, eating half an hour later while he heard from three different sources that Phil now ate lunch in his office with whichever agent needed to talk to him. Which worked out well since Clint was eating half the amount he normally did and no one he sat with knew him well enough to notice.

"You're going to have to go to medical," Natasha told him two days later and Clint sighed, then nodded. "I've talked to ten other agents and no one is exhibiting any symptoms. It sounds like it's just you."

"I'm almost glad for that," he said, grabbing his left foot and pulling it up behind him to stretch. "I made an appointment for this afternoon. Keep it to yourself, all right?" He never told her that unless he meant tell no one.

"No one suspects you might be sick," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Not even Coulson."

"No one has our vision," Clint said, grabbing his right foot and shrugging it off. "And everyone is so damn thankful the earth is still intact that they won't notice."

 

Clint liked Dr. Zeith, always had. He sat on the bed wearing nothing but a gown as the Doc entered the room, expression shocked. "What's this?"

"I'm invoking beta-six-five-zero," Clint said immediately and Zeith sighed. It was the only way to seal the examination, as long as Clint wasn't contagious or had to be grounded, and keep all information from his superiors.

"Agent Coulson has you flagged, he'll still know you were here today even if he can't see the test results."

"That's fine," Clint said, smile in place.

They ran through all the obvious tests and blood work while Clint gave him every detail he could think of for the past few weeks.

"There's one more test we could run," Zeith said, hesitation obvious in his voice.

Clint rubbed the back on his neck and sighed. "Pregnancy, right?"

"Yes," Zeith said. "Be aware that if it comes back positive, Director Fury will have to be informed."

"I'm aware," Clint said, touching his stomach. "As long as the information goes directly to Fury and no one else."

Zeith narrowed his eyes and frowned. "You don't want it?"

"I'm a god-damned _Avenger_ , Doc. I can't be grounded for the next thirty-nine weeks."

"You should talk to your partner," Zeith said, actually backing away as Clint narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

"Not an option."

"You're…"

"Doctor," Clint said, reminding himself he liked this man. "How long until you get the results?"

"I should know by two o'clock tomorrow."

"I'll call Fury and schedule an appointment for three. How long until I can come back here and take care of it?"

"You're pretty sure of the results," Zeith said and Clint nodded. "And you don't want to tell your partner?"

"I don't have a fucking partner, Doc. It was a one-night stand and he's made it pretty clear he's not interested in anything more. I'm not telling him."

"I can schedule you back here at five tomorrow for an ultrasound and a couple tests."

"More tests? Why?"

"Because male pregnancy is still rare, Agent Barton, I need to run some tests first. Your safety is paramount to me."

"Schedule it and I'll be back here at two-thirty for my results."

"Maybe you'll be wrong," Zeith said, smiling at him and Clint scoffed. As if his life would pull together that neatly.

 

He avoided the mansion that evening. Phil still lived there even if he wasn't present near as much and Clint wasn't stupid. He knew himself well enough to know that the temptation was overwhelming tonight. Fuck. They'd been friends for years - he trusted Phil as much as he trusted Natasha and Coulson had been willing to throw it all away because he couldn't stand looking at Clint after fucking him.

Another two weeks and all of this would be behind him. Zeith would schedule the procedure, Fury would sign off on it and he'd be back to work in a week and a half, after Zeith confirmed he'd recuperated one-hundred percent.

It would be a good time to travel a little. Not even Natasha knew all of Clint's bolt holes. He could drive down to Virginia for a week and use some of his vacation. He'd leave behind everything Stark built - Tony couldn't be trusted to not put a GPS in anything - and spend nothing but cash for the week. Easy enough.

He sang every song he knew while on the roof. From children's pieces half-forgotten to the annoying one he'd heard on the radio today. Golden sunlight faded to red and orange, giving way to black velvet then nothing but starlight before Clint made his way from the roof to one of SHIELD's safe houses to sleep. If his hand rested against his stomach the entire time, well, no one was there to know but him.

 

"It's been almost like a vacation," Natasha said as they stretched to run the next morning.

"I think everyone is still weirded out by the alien invasion," Clint said. "I can't think of the last time we had this long a break between missions."

"You want to spar this afternoon?" she asked and Clint froze for a second before grinning at her.

"Not today, I have a couple appointments lined up. I thought you were sparring with Coulson or Cap lately, anyway?"

"I am, but you've only been lifting weights and running for the past month. I thought I'd offer."

He knew she was fishing for information but he could keep even Black Widow at bay for another couple days. "I like being bruise free. How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," she said.

 

"It's not standard procedure," Zeith said, squirming a little.

"I don't want anyone else to know. I promise I'm going straight to Fury's office from here. I can call you from there if you need him to acknowledge I'm giving him the file."

"I need to ask one more time," Zeith said, looking at the appointment card in his hand, scheduled for three days later. "Are you sure the father shouldn't have the option to…"

"I'm the god-damned father, Zeith," Clint said. "I'm the carrier _and_ the father and I'm not giving birth to a kid who will most likely end up in foster care. I know what my life expectancy is as an Avenger. I can't do this on my own and I can't trap anyone into caring for me. It's freely given or it's not worth it and he's made it clear that I'm not… I'm not what he wants."

Zeith handed him the file without another word and Clint carried it to his meeting with Fury.

 

The call to Assemble was handled via conference call twenty-five minutes after Clint sat down with Fury. The appointment had only needed ten minutes but Fury was a persistent Director and Clint was glad for the call just to stop telling Fury that no, he wasn't going to admit who else had… participated in this event.

"Widow's there to fly the Quinjet," Fury said. "If you need a sniper, let Coulson know. I'll send Wilson and Walker with the SHIELD agents."

"What?" Steve asked. "Where's Barton?"

"I'm grounded for the time being," Clint said, walking around the desk so they could see him. Natasha looked worried and Coulson looked as surprised as Steve in the separate windows.

"Whatever he did," Tony said, "is not as important as this. We want Hawkeye with us."

"I'm not off the team or in trouble," Clint said, smiling at the monitor. "I'm unable to help today, that's all."

"We're going to discuss this later," Bruce said and of all people, Clint hadn't expected Banner to threaten Fury. Clint's smile morphed into something real.

"I'll be back later tonight, not to worry," Clint said.

 

"Sit," Fury said, and Clint complied.

"Sir?"

"I've never been required to be tactful with you before, so I'm not going to start now," Fury said, sighing. "This was consensual, correct? If you were forced, by anyone – even someone I know – I want to know."

Clint nodded and smiled at him. "It was consensual, yes, and an accident. I didn't want to get pregnant, Sir."

"And you're seven and a half weeks along? This doesn't have anything to do with Loki, does it?"

Clint glared at him. "Definitely not."

"So no… alien impregnation? I can rule that out?"

"Why even think that, sir?"

"Because you're an Avenger, Barton," Fury said, as if that explained so much (which it really did). "And more than that, you're one of mine. I take care of my own."

The only thing left to say was, "Thank you."

Clint went for the ultrasound and four other tests that Zeith demanded and then snuck out of SHIELD once more. He returned to the same safe house – not ready to answer any questions. 

Until the front and back doors were bashed in at the same time. Sighing, Clint set the pizza down and folded his hands on his lap. "I'm in here, guys!" This definitely wasn't a safe house any longer. 

Bruce dropped onto the couch next to Clint, touching his face and… "My pupils aren't dilated, Banner."

"You're okay?" Steve asked and Clint nodded.

"Don't sit out any more missions, jackass," Tony said.

"Jesus, if I tell you, will you respect my privacy and let it go?"

"No," Natasha said, Phil trailing in her wake and _great_. 

"I'm sick," Clint said, knowing that only Natasha would pick up on the lie. "I hit my head the other day and I'm seeing double. That's it. It will clear up in a couple days."

"Then why the medical secrecy?" Coulson asked and Clint shrugged.

"Got scared, thought I was going blind for a minute. I think we can all agree that would be awful for a sniper."

"Okay," Natasha said and Clint loved her in that moment. "You're coming home with us and we'll take care of you for the next couple days."

"As you wish," Clint said, not looking at anyone but Nat. If she decided that was the truth, the rest of them would follow since she'd known him the longest. 

 

"What's really going on?" she said, hands on her hips, once they were alone and the room had been swept for bugs.

"I'm pregnant," Clint said and she rolled her eyes. "Natasha," Clint said and she froze, eyes wide for a brief moment.

"Who?"

"Not worth it," he whispered. "It was a one-night stand."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going have a child raised by the foster system," Clint said and she closed her eyes, nodded, then walked into Clint's arm. 

"Is this… are you _hugging_ me?"

She slapped him on the back of the head and Clint laughed.

"Don't tell the team," she advised and Clint rolled his eyes. 

"As if – only you, Fury and Doctor Zeith know."

"Not Coulson?"

"Nah, I'm already up to three, I don't need more than that."

She didn't figure it out. Clint had pulled it off. No one suspected and neither Fury nor Tasha would tell anyone. He was safe.

.

His appointment with Zeith might be flagged, sure, but Clint was still more than surprised to walk into the room to find Coulson there, sitting on the stool with Zeith against the far wall, his dark eyes wide.

"What are you doing in here?" Clint said, bluster giving way to real anger immediately.

"Will you excuse us, Doctor?" Phil said, voice calm and reasonable and Zeith nodded once, scurrying from the room.

"You didn't break him, did you?" Clint said. "I need him mentally sound today."

Phil's right hand was on Clint's file, a sonogram in his left. "You weren't going to tell me."

"No," Clint said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why not?" Phil said and Clint just laughed. "You don't have to do this," Phil added, glancing between the picture and Clint's stomach. There wasn't anything to see on the picture more than a pea-sized bump - Zeith had done it strictly as a precaution - there wasn't any obvious sign Clint was pregnant yet, but Coulson kept looking. "Did you think this was your only option?"

Clint nodded once because he never did like lying to Coulson.

"What if it's not?"

"Exactly what are you offering?" He'd had enough of guessing when it came to Phil.

"I'm responsible for this as well…"

Clint cut him off right there. "I would never hold you responsible…"

"I know, but it's still true. Do you want another option?" He tapped the folder again.

"You know my history, sir."

"I know," Phil watched him, his expression blank and Clint didn't like it. He could usually read Coulson's little tics. When Clint didn't speak, Phil continued. "We could get married, raise her together." Clint must have looked shocked by that. "Or I can raise her if you want to continue being an Avenger. It's up to you."

"You know my past, Sir," Clint repeated and when Phil didn't correct him, Clint wanted to leave the room. It would never be Phil, would it?

"We could try dating first, if that's what you want. I don't think you're adverse to marriage, just to a bad one." 

Clint laughed again, "Because getting married strictly for a child won't make it bad?"

"Just because some are, doesn't make all of them bad, Clint. We can date, see if it works, see if we're compatible. We have a few weeks before you need…" Phil tapped the file again, "to carry this through."

And fuck, but Clint had never been able to say no to Coulson. Had never wanted to -- which explained the whole knocked-up bit. "Is that what you want?"

Coulson remained silent for a long time before meeting Clint's gaze. "Yes."

"Okay."

"Should I find Doctor Zeith?" Phil asked and Clint shook his head.

"I'll do that. I think you scared him enough today."

"Do you want me to stay for this appointment?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yes, Phil, I want you to stay." And Phil started a little. Clint hadn't called him by his first name in seven weeks. Clint watched Phil consider that and then smile at him - a little nervous. Clint hadn't seen that expression since the Destroyer took out part of New Mexico.

Besides, if he left to find Zeith, Clint knew exactly how long he would have before he needed to face Phil again. He needed those minutes.

"Are you all right?" Zeith asked and Clint nodded.

"He didn't hurt you?" Clint asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it regardless. 

"Agent Coulson? No. He was just insistent. _Very_ insistent and once he looked at the sonogram and realized… I've never seen such an expression on his face." Zeith's whole attitude changed with the realization about why Coulson was there and he took Clint's arm, guiding him into an empty room. "He's the other one, isn't he?" It wasn't actually a question.

Clint sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, he is. Listen, you're going to hear me singing a whole new tune once we get back in there. I just wanted to warn you first."

"He didn't threaten you, did he?" Zeith asked and Clint shook his head. 

"Coulson? No. So tell me, because I'm not going to ask in front of him, how long until I can't change my mind?"

"Thirteen weeks, depending on development; it varies with men."

Almost six weeks to decide then. "Okay, let's do this," Clint said, walking back with Zeith.

 

In the end, Clint had asked very few questions. Coulson's quick mind asked everything they both wanted to know and Clint remained quiet, just watching him. He hadn't wanted to do this but Phil didn't look trapped or resigned. He looked almost excited. And he knew, even more than Natasha, about Clint's past. 

They left together, Phil still making notes on his tablet as they walked, letting Barton's gentle touch guide him around obstacles as normal. It was nice, and Clint would give anything to move past all this awkwardness between them. They reached the elevators and Phil tucked it under his arm, glancing at Barton. "I have two more hours of work to do. Want to meet for dinner after that?"

Clint just blinked at him. "At the mansion?"

"I thought out… I think we could use some time alone."

 _As a date_? Clint wanted to ask but didn't. "Meet you at your car in two-twenty?"

Phil nodded once and stepped into the elevator. 

Natasha pulled away from the wall, joining Clint. "What was that?"

She should know. She deserved to know before the rest of the team but Clint couldn't. He wanted to cradle the idea just a little longer. "Nothing much."

She scoffed at him but didn't challenge his answer. He knew she'd just pay closer attention until she figured it out, or he caved and told her. Clint suspected the second option.

 

The good thing about knowing Coulson so well meant knowing all his favorite places. While he could wear jeans to any of them, Clint suspected that Coulson wouldn't. Which meant dressing a little neater than he usually chose to. It wouldn't kill him – besides, no matter how well they knew each other, it was still a first date. Coulson greeted him in a black shirt with gray trousers while Clint had chosen black trousers with a deep purple shirt. Phil smiled at the color and Clint shrugged. He liked it, damn it.

He'd expected more questions about the pregnancy but Phil did nothing Clint would have expected. They talked a little about work but mostly about personal things; from his love of big band music to Clint's preference for classical. He enjoyed it – more than he could have hoped.

"Should I drop you off at the mansion?" Phil asked. "You don't need your bike back tonight, do you?"

"I can get a ride into SHIELD," Clint said, only a little disappointed by no offer to stick around longer. 

"I had a nice time," Phil said, smiling at him. He didn't lean in and Clint refused to seem the needy one.

"Me too. See you at work," Clint said, staring for a moment longer until Phil fidgeted but didn't move closer. Okay then. He exited the car without another word.

 

Natasha met him on the range the following day, turning off the phone's alarm. "Hey, Widow."

"Lunch time?" she asked and Clint stopped firing long enough to look at her. 

"In all the years I've known you…"

"I know," she said, waving her hand to cut off his words. "Surprise."

He waited for her to broach the subject, which she didn't do until they found a table in the corner, not too near anyone else. "Coulson said he's coming by the mansion tonight. Something about helping you prepare dinner?"

"I don't know how to make the meal I wanted to try and it's ridiculously complicated. He offered to teach me."

"You two haven't spoken to each other in almost two months and now he's coming by to cook with you?"

Clint shrugged and didn't touch his stomach. The lack of movement was just as telling though. "He's not?" she said, briefly unable to control her shocked expression. "Clint," she breathed. "What's going on?"

He wanted to check for wounds – she never called him by his first name. "I didn't force this," he said, his cheeks warm. "I didn't even tell him. He asked me to delay my decision for a few weeks, that's all."

"Is this what you want?"

He hesitated, torn between a lie and bluster and settled for the truth, surprising even himself. "I want the chance to see."

Reaching for his hand surprised Clint; this was the second time she'd initiated contact between them recently, "Whatever makes you happy, that's all that matters." Clint had never pegged Natasha as sentimental. The entire _world_ was changing around him.

 

"What?" Clint pointed at Phil's apron, "No kiss the cook?"

"It was this or one labeled Princess," Phil raised one eyebrow at him. "You would have preferred that, correct?"

"It would have made them laugh."

"I can always leave and let you attempt dinner on your own."

"I said laugh, not poison."

Clint, always aware of the space around him, worked around Phil as well as Phil worked around him. The dinner was almost complete before Clint realized something odd. Coulson never touched him. He hadn't on their dinner date the previous night and even here, he'd hover just above Clint's skin if he was directing him, would stop centimeters away if he needed something and Clint was in his way, but never touched. 

It made Clint itch to push.

They hadn't discussed boundaries. Clint pushed when plugged in and working as a sniper, he pushed as an Avenger, but this was different. He never would have asked for any of this – not that there was much – from Phil. 

Damn it, for once he wanted Phil to push.

"Barton?"

He didn't flinch at the use of his last name. "What?"

"You okay?"

"Peachy," Clint lied and set his issues aside.

"When are you going to tell us what's wrong?" Instead of the whole team, only Steve stood on the range next to Clint. "Your aim is perfect."

"Of course my…." He trailed off. Teammates or not, this wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation – he'd lied to them about hitting his head, after all.

"You never hit your head, did you?" Steve asked, arms folded across his chest and another ugly plaid shirt. Someone needed to update his wardrobe.

Sighing, Clint set the bow aside and unhooked the quiver. Steve stepped forward and took it from him, eyes widening at the light weight. 

He couldn't carry as much and he was only nine weeks along. "I shot most of them already."

"It's not the same without you, Clint."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I will be back."

"Tony's broke into every cyber space he can find trying to figure it out. Bruce wants to tackle you and take blood samples himself. Thor thinks we should just kidnap Coulson because he obviously knows."

"Why would Coulson know?" Clint edged toward the door.

"You're kidding, right?" Steve said, deftly moving in front of Clint, arms on his hips to make him wider, as if he didn't already tower over him. "You two are thick as thieves lately. You're going places outside of SHIELD together, you've been seen at dinner, at lunch, he's dropped you off at the mansion…" Steve's eyes widened and Clint knew he got part of it. "You're dating?"

The warmth trickled down his cheekbones to his neck and Clint shifted, "Yeah."

"How long?"

"Two weeks," Clint said and hoped this revelation would derail…

"And he knows what's wrong, doesn't he?"

So much for derailment. "I'll be fine, Cap. I swear. It's not permanent, and no, I didn't hit my head."

"You will tell us soon?"

Clint shrugged and Steve stepped forward, hand on Clint's shoulder. "We're worried and it's not a team without you, Clint. We want you back."

The range door slid open but he was expecting Nat. he ignored it in favor of answering Steve. "I want to be back on the team," he said. "It won't be much longer."

The lack of movement made him glance over, barely catching Phil's surprised expression before it melted into something bland, his eyes trailing up Steve's body and across his arm to where it rested on Clint's shoulder. Clint wanted to step out of Steve's reach.

Steve glanced behind him and squeezed Clint's shoulder before letting go. "Agent Coulson."

"Captain," he said, stepping aside to let him leave. 

"Hi," Clint said, moving forward, stopping in arm's reach but Phil, as always, didn't move to touch him. "I just lied to Captain America. Do you think I'm going to hell?"

Phil snorted "I think you're going there for plenty of reasons, Barton."

"Lunch time?" Clint asked and Phil shrugged. 

"You ready to go?"

"Sure."

"How's your aim?"

"You mean you didn't check the feed?" Clint teased. "And didn't see Steve trap me in here, which is why," he checked the time, "you're twenty minutes early?"

Phil only glared at him, making Clint grin. "I was hungry and it was a good place to stop." He fell into step with him, heading for the exit and the food trollies set up along the edge of government headquarters. Clint had wanted nothing but hot dogs for two days now.

"What did you lie about?" Phil asked once they cleared the doors and were traversing the courtyard.

"I said I'd be back to work soon."

"And you won't be?"

Clint hesitated; two weeks wasn't much time to make such a decision but he was sure. Much like he'd been sure upon meeting Natasha the first time that he'd follow her anywhere. Much like meeting Phil the first time and knowing he'd work for him – follow any order the man gave him.

Much like deciding to be a part of the team and not only on the fringes.

"It's probably going to be months."

He didn't say anything else but didn't have to. Phil relaxed slightly next to him and smiled.

"Cap knows we're dating." Clint said into the silence and Phil almost choked on his food. 

"And you're okay with that?" Phil asked and Clint considered it.

"Yeah, I am."

He didn't reply with words but Phil shifting closer until their bodies touched at the shoulder and knees was enough for Clint.

 

"Put me in the field," Clint snarled and Fury shook his head again.

"If you don't desist, I will tranq you."

"Damn it," Clint said, slamming his hand into Command's wall but didn't take his eyes off the monitors. "I'm a sniper. It's long-distance. Those creatures are on the ground and not moving quick enough to hurt me."

Fury didn't answer him and the second Clint moved for the door, he felt something tiny and sharp bite his neck. The fuckers.

He woke to Coulson's furious voice. He hadn't heard that since Loki escaped the prison cell. Opening his eyes, Clint picked up one hand and Phil stopped pacing, slamming his phone shut and pocketing it, staring at Clint.

"If anyone does that again, I'm going to give them to Banner for experiments."

"I was being slightly unreasonable," Clint admitted.

"The battle's over," Phil said, moving closer. Clint hardly breathed until Phil took his hand, lacing their fingers together. It would be enough, it had to be.

"Natasha is one room over, not fatal but she needed stitches. Everyone else is fine." Clint raised one eyebrow and looked at the rips in Phil's jacket. "Just the clothes," Phil said, moving even closer.

God, Clint wanted to grab him and kiss him… then Phil did it himself, grabbing Clint's shoulder and yanking their chests together, pressing their lips tight for a brief second. He caressed Clint's stomach and pulled away. "Zeith is running your blood tests to make sure the tranq didn't hurt either of you. He'll be back soon."

"Go," Clint said. "I'll keep Natasha company until Zeith comes back."

Phil hesitated, thumb trailing across the back of Clint's hand. "You're sure?"

Clint nodded. "I know what you need to do right now. Go, Phil." Knuckles brushed against Clint's jawline and Phil nodded, leaving the room.

 

Phil didn't touch most people. Even their night together had been crazy; fueled by worry and adrenaline and the lack of anyone else around. Clint had reached for Phil first but Phil had led all of it until Clint had been so wound up that he couldn't stop begging for more. They'd ended up naked in bed, Clint unwilling to say no when Phil reached between his legs, fingers grazing his hole and whispered, "Please?"

Things were better between them but Phil still showed no signs of wanting more. Clint hated it; he wanted to be touched in too many ways; his body needy and changing and demanding. Yet he had no idea how to ask. Christ, would it be like this forever? Phil would date him, would probably marry him, because he wanted their child. But would he ever love Clint?

He already knew the answer to that; he wasn't the lovable type – never had been. 

So Clint did what he did best – made contingency plans.

 

He got cleared by Zeith and wandered into Tasha's hospital room. She scooted over. "Where?" he asked and she touched her left thigh. He climbed into the bed on her right side and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

"I haven't seen him that angry for a long time," she said. 

Clint nodded against her temple, "He was worried about the baby."

"Not just the baby, Clint." 

Clint didn't verbally disagree with her though he thought she was wrong.

Her hands skimmed cross his stomach. "You're not going to be able to hide it much longer."

"My clothes are getting uncomfortable," he admitted. "Apparently I don't own anything baggy."

She chuffed and said, "I could have told you that."

"Wanna go shopping?"

"You want to watch me threaten the clerks who don't leave you alone?"

"Yes, please."

"As soon as I can walk a little steadier."

"So tomorrow?"

"Sure."

 

He set the bags on the bed, dropping on it too in order to rest against the headboard as he flipped open the knife to cut off all the clothing tags. Phil knocked on the door and Clint looked at him in surprise. "Hi."

"You weren't at SHIELD today so I wanted to make sure…" he glanced at the bags.

"Nothing really fits at this point," Clint said. 

Phil poked through the bags, saw it was all adult things, and walked away from the bed, leaning against the dresser. "Nothing for the baby?"

Clint hadn't; he'd thought about it but in the end, he wanted Phil with him to shop for the baby – not Natasha.

"I'm going to have to tell them soon," Clint hedged. 

"You're changing the subject."

Sighing, Clint nodded. "I thought you might want to go with me – for the baby stuff."

When Phil started moving, Clint actually thought he was leaving the room. Instead he ended up walking around the bed to sit next to him. "I'd like that. I would have liked…"

"What?"

"Why'd you take Natasha with you today?"

"Didn't want to bother you," Clint admitted and Phil rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't have minded, you know."

And Clint was getting mixed signals here. Up until this point he didn't know. But Phil was changing, relaxing around him. They were both adjusting to this idea – even if marriage hadn't been brought up again. Or love. Fuck, not even sex had been mentioned and Clint was really missing that currently.

"The team? He prompted.

"Whenever you like. Assuming there's no disaster this afternoon, we'll all be here tonight."

"Okay," Clint said, glancing at him. 

"Do you want to find out the gender," Phil blurted out and Clint nodded.

"It would make it easier to buy things and I suspect you're not interested in the surprise."

"How…" Phil hesitated, biting his lip and Clint watched, fascinated. He'd never seen this expression before. "I don't want to make any assumptions but you're approaching the deadline to change your mind. And you bought new clothes, and you're talking about telling the team."

"Yes, Phil," Clint said, finally confirming it. "I'm having the baby." It wasn't everything he wanted but he could still have the Avengers. Phil could have the baby and Clint wouldn't argue with it at all. He knew how much Phil wanted to be a father and had never expected it to happen.

"Okay," Phil said, smiling at him. "Okay."

"I suspect that Tony will build a nursery all on his own volition," Clint said. "I think we can settle for one set of things."

"Where?"

Clint didn't want to lead this conversation. He wasn't going to force Phil into marrying him, or continuing this charade. "Why don't you change your guest room into a nursery?" he said, hands clammy and clenched, view blocked from Phil by the shopping bags. 

He opened his mouth to reply as an explosion shook the walls and they glanced at each other. Phil drew his gun and raced to the doorway, Clint flipped open the case next to his bed taking the bow and grabbing the quiver.

"Go," he said, letting Phil lead the way. The hall clear, Clint followed him to the top of the stairs and waited. Natasha came out, strapping on her holsters, drawing her guns. She didn't try and stop Clint either, not in their home.

"Clear," Phil called up and Clint went next, one arrow nocked. The second explosion was closer, broken glass tinkling. They ran for the foyer, following the roar of the Hulk and the whine of repulsors from Tony. He waited for Clint to catch up, the three of them sliding into the room together. 

"Stay safe," Phil muttered, running in opposite direction from Natasha. Clint ran along the wall, glass crunching beneath his feet as he aimed for the stairwell on the other side. He wasn't sure where Cap or Thor were yet. He was half way up the stairs, getting ready to ask JARVIS if he was still online, when the third bomb exploded.

 

Monitors beeped all around him, the smell of sterile pillowcases filling his nose. At least the lights were dim. Someone moved and Clint tried to focus, tried to raise his hand.

"Be careful," was all she said. "You've got a broken leg, four bruised ribs and a sprained right wrist."

"How are the other guys?" he asked, voice dry, throat painful.

"Dead," Natasha said, her face swimming into sight, grin wide. "A state that doesn't apply to you, Barton."

"The team?"

"Everyone's been released except you. They were outside when the blast went off. Coulson was near enough the door to get thrown outside. I was clear of it too."

"And?" he asked, unable to actually say the words. 

Natasha cupped his jaw and shook her head. He'd suspected as much. The heart monitor was only beeping for one person – not two. Clint closed his eyes.

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs," she said. "He's not left." She tilted her head to the corner and he could see a few file folders and an open laptop there. 

"Tell him to go," Clint said, closing his eyes.

"Why?" she asked, the bed dipping as she sat on the edge.

"The baby's gone - he doesn’t have to stick around." She didn't answer him and Clint didn't open his eyes.

"Natasha," Phil said, "can you excuse us?"

She touched Clint's wrist briefly before leaving the room, pulling the door shut.

"Is that what you think?" he whispered and Clint didn't open his eyes. "That I don't want you?"

"I'm sorry about the baby," Clint said. He truly was and no matter what, he wanted to make sure Phil knew that.

The bark of laughter made him open his eyes. "You were going to run, weren't you?"

"Huh?"

"That's why you only wanted one set of baby items. I thought you were getting used to the idea; getting used to us, but you weren't."

"You wanted a child," Clint said. "I was going to give you that."

"I want a family," Phil corrected, sitting on the bed, reaching forward and resting his hand on Clint's chest. "I wanted both of you but you couldn't accept that."

Phil took a deep breath, his hand clenching against Clint's chest. "What was the first thing you said to me when I found out you were pregnant? 'You know my history.' And I do know it, Clint, it's a broken home and an abusive father and a brother who abandoned you. People who tried to force you into being a criminal. I know all of it. 

"I had already taken away all your choices," Phil whispered. "I wanted _you_ to choose us."

"I did," Clint said and Phil shook his head.

"You chose to have the baby but I've never known where I stand with you. Giving me our child isn't the same as choosing me, Clint."

"I think" Clint said, his eyes wide and possibly too bright, "I want to have this conversation again when I'm not drugged."

"I'm not going to give you a different answer," Phil assured him and Clint smiled, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Phil's thin wrist.

"Okay. Do… do you need to do more work?"

"No," Phil said. "I only needed the distraction until you woke."

"Can you…" Clint moved his arm and Phil, surprised, nodded at him. He walked around the bed and climbed onto it, settling his arms around Clint. "Have you slept?"

"Not much," Phil admitted. 

"Stay then," Clint said and he did.


	2. Chapter 2

"Blindfolds off!" Tony said, voice gleeful and each of them dutifully removed them before pouring out of the SHIELD SUV's onto the road in front of the rebuilt mansion. "Come on, come on," he said, waving all of them in after him. 

"Gentlemen, and my lady," Tony said with a flourish of arms, "our home has been rebuilt." Steve hugged him, followed quickly by Banner. "Come on, let's take a tour!" He didn't leave any of them behind as he walked up the stairs.

"JARVIS, say hello."

"I'm sure they're more interested in seeing your upgrades, Sir."

"Not really," Banner said. "How are you, JARVIS?"

"Very well, thank you. All systems are accessible."

"Everything has been stabilized as much as possible," Tony said, knocking on the hallway wall. "It's not perfect because even I couldn't create something to guarantee she won't fall down." He glanced at Coulson, "But you can be damn sure that it will take a lot more than a bomb to bring it down on Barton again."

Natasha laughed and bumped into Clint's shoulder. Tony tapped the first door. "Widow, this is you. Banner, you're across the hall – though I installed another bed downstairs in your lab as well." They continued to walk and Tony tapped on the next set of doors. "Thor, this is for you. You'll find a balcony with access to the backyard. Please try and not go through the wall. That goes for you as well, Bruce!"

He walked across the hall and tapped on the next door, "This is for Cap. You'll have to let me know if you approve, Steve."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Tony."

"And the last two," he said as they reached the end of the hall, should be obvious. I'm here," Tony knocked on the door on the same side as Steve's and pointed to the last door. "That's for our resident Agent and archer, of course.

"I'm not going to let any of you in yet, though all the doors are keyed biometrically to you with one override for each room for Cap. That's in your room already, Steve. We're going downstairs next." 

Tony took them through communications, the kitchen, the dining room, and the rest of the rooms he deemed his mansion had needed. The basement was two large labs that each of them had access to. Bruce didn't follow them back upstairs.

"Come on, while they're distracted," Clint said, touching Phil's hand. 

They separated off from the group, the red light above their doorknob turning green as Clint gripped it. The bedroom was gorgeous, done in shades of deep purple, black and gray. Coulson opened a variety of doors, revealing two large closets, a weapons locker, one bathroom and a second, smaller room in pale green.

"What's this?" he asked and Clint followed him inside, leaning his chest against Phil's back, taking his left hand, their rings clinking together. 

"There's a note," Clint said and Phil picked it up, reading softly.

_In case you opt to try again._

"He built us a nursery?" Clint asked and Phil nodded. "You know, he's not so bad sometimes."

"Bite your tongue, Barton."

"Rather you would do that, Sir."

Phil shut him up with a kiss.


End file.
